Books & Writing
I guess you could say that growing up I had a lot of things going on in my head. I like to talk about the things that I was doing and when I was doing them. My childhood was lost in a bunch of books that I could find a new world in. My parents were constantly trying to find me more books to read. I was reading before I left preschool and I have never really quit reading. There is always something to be learned or another place to disappear into.
I loved knowing that there was another world out there and by the time I reached the third grade I was making my own little worlds. I never got totally lost in them, but I was always trying to find a way to escape the world I was in. I loved just being able to share those with my teachers and then eventually with my parents.
At first I was deathly afraid of what all these people might say. I was afraid of getting in trouble, but I didn’t get in trouble. No, they encouraged me to go on. They wanted me to keep writing and to keep sharing my imaginary world with the people around me.
I know that the other kids around me were not the kind of kids that would want to read the things I was writing about. They teased me because the teacher was allowing me to write while the rest of them were forced to listen as he read a story out loud to the rest of the class. The only thing was that I was outgrowing the things they were having me read. I wanted to move on faster. They put me in an advanced reading class and tried to get me to open up in there, but even the reading they were doing in there was still behind what I wanted to read. I was reading so much and so fast that I needed to take in so much.
I would find books about new and different subjects and I would read them. I read Hamlet for the first time when I was entering the sixth grade. I read other things as well. By the time I was in high school I had read many of the plays that they wanted us to read, and I had become well versed in reading authors such as Poe and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. It was about my second year of French that I learned something that I didn’t know, I read The Count of Monte Cristo in its original language, French.
So as I grew up my childhood was filled with many different worlds and many of them I claimed as my own. I wanted to feel like I belonged in those worlds. And I am thankful for my childhood friends who were in those worlds.